A Kidnapping at the Fair
by Kate Marley
Summary: Roderich is able to read other people's minds when he touches their temples. A childhood friend of King Sebastian, he has become a powerful courtier and royal adviser. At the evening of the annual summer fair, he witnesses the kidnapping of Sebastian's half-sister Erika and tries to prevent it. Gilbert, the royal field marshal, comes to the rescue. Magical/fantasy AU


_Written for Joëlle as part of Creators of Hetalia Discord's Back to School Exchange._

* * *

Roderich was strolling through rows of busy market stalls with a piece of rolled spit cake with sugar and cinnamon topping in his hand. It was one of his favourite bakeries at this fair and always the first thing he bought. People who recognised his face moved out of his way when he approached. Those who didn't usually followed suit. They assumed correctly he was a courtier at King Sebastian's palace from the way he was dressed.

Basch, as he was allowed to call him, his younger sister Erika and Roderich had grown up together. Roderich's parents were wealthy nobles who lived in the countryside. They had sent their son to the court so he could keep the young prince company. The two of them had always been very different: One a fighter; a serious and diligent squire; always eager to learn everything that seemed useful to govern his kingdom in his later life. The other had been a bookish boy with a special interest in the fine arts. Roderich had always been fairly good with lighter swords but had also been willing to skip any lesson if it meant he could dedicate more time to teaching himself how to play a musical instrument. Music was considered part of a princely education too, but for Roderich, it was what he lived for.

Surprisingly, these two different boys had been able to get along fairly well. Of course there had been arguments and misunderstandings, but overall, Basch was always there to protect Roderich, and Roderich was always there to tell Basch about the things he had learned during a day and to give him a private concert on the instrument he was currently attempting to master.

There was another thing Roderich had discovered about himself while growing up—something that distinguished him from most of the other courtiers. He only realised it the day Basch and Erika got into an argument about a vase. Both insisted they had broken it, almost starting an argument with each other. Roderich had stepped in between in order to calm them, but the moment his hands touched them, he _saw_ how Erika had accidentally pushed the vase to the ground. He also _knew_ Basch was trying to spare her a scolding even though he had no idea why he suddenly had this knowledge.

Now, Roderich wondered if the reaction of those at the fair who recognised him had something to do with the fact that he was known to be a magician—a mind reader. He wondered if they assumed he was able to read their thoughts just as he passed them by and if this was why they kept such a distance between themselves and him.

Roderich shook his head in order to get rid of that thought. He'd better stop over-interpreting their behaviour. They treated _any_ courtier like this, not just him. Well ... anybody except for...

And there he was, kneeling in front of a small pond next to a group of joyful children. His silverish hair almost touched the water as he bowed over the pond with a ladle, trying to catch some fish. The short trousers he was wearing off duty were riding dangerously low, baring half of his round butt. Roderich found himself staring at it for a little too long, mouth dry and definitely _interested_.

Unfortunately, Gilbert Beilschmidt, King Sebastian's field marshal, was an obnoxious lout. He let no opportunity pass by to annoy Roderich who, in turn, found it difficult to hold a civil conversation with him that didn't end in them throwing insults at each other.

Seemingly sensing he was watched, Gilbert made a casual half-turn, grinning at his spectators. Sure enough, there was a freshly caught fish in his ladle. When he spotted Roderich in the group of people watching the game, he raised the ladle with his catch and waved it.

"Hey, Specs! Wanna try it too? Not sure if you'll manage, though. It's not as easy as it looks!"

"Thanks kindly, but I'll give this surely unique opportunity a pass," Roderich replied, pushing up the pair of glasses on his nose Gilbert had been referring to with his nickname. He didn't even _want_ to snap at him, but somehow, Gilbert's whole demeanour provoked this reaction in him.

"Ooh, you're just afraid to lose against my awesome self in a simple children's game!" Gilbert cooed. Roderich _tsk_ ed haughtily, shook his head and turned away. It was a shame that Gilbert was like this as soon as he was in a group of people. He always needed to show off.

In rare moments when they were alone, Roderich had seen a different Gilbert. A Gilbert, for example, who had taught him how to distinguish constellations and what their positions in the sky told them about directions and seasons. Roderich hadn't been able to memorise all he had learned. He had been distracted by Gilbert's cool hand on his arm and the warm, fuzzy feeling that had spread through his body as a result. But nothing had come of it. That was, nothing but this annoying little crush on Roderich's part that resurfaced in the most inappropriate moments.

"Brother!" A broad hand patted him on the shoulder.

"Theodor!" He turned around to his older brother, a general in the royal army. Theo was also wearing off-duty clothes; brown trousers and a white shirt he had opened at the collar. His flaxen hair was tousled and there was a broad grin on his face.

"I heard the food in the main marquee is delicious this year," Theo told him. "They have excellent beer and even wine!"

"You're going to get fat!" Roderich scolded, poking at the muffin top around his brother's waist. Theo swatted his hand away.

"Oh, come on! Summer fair is only once a year! And besides, one of the waitresses is said to be exceptionally pretty..."

"Very well," Roderich sighed. "Let's go there and get some food. But let me finish eating my spit cake first."

* * *

"Now, what do you say?" Theodor boxed Roderich lightly. "Isn't she pretty?" Roderich glanced up with mild disinterest, following the waitress Theo had pointed out to him earlier with his eyes. She had shoulder-length brown hair woven into an elegant chignon hairstyle.

"Yes, she is," he replied, sighing into the glass of red wine in front of him.

"Come on, what's the matter?" Theo laid an arm around him with affection. "She's graceful and pretty. I know she must be your type, but you're barely even looking at her. Are you lovesick?"

Roderich emptied the glass in front of him in one long gulp. He really didn't want to talk that over with his brother now, especially not when Theo's beer breath was unpleasantly wafting towards him. They were already sitting in the marquee for longer than he had intended.

"I thought she was supposed to be _your_ type," he said eventually.

"And she is," Theo said. For the shortest moment, Roderich hoped he had distracted his brother, but he continued: "Doesn't mean _you_ wouldn't be attracted to her as well. If there wasn't someone else on your mind already, that is." He patted Roderich on the shoulder. "Come on, little one. Tell me who it is." Towards the waitress, he called: "Hello, sweetie, my baby brother needs another glass of wine!"

"It's someone who isn't invading my personal space the way you do," Roderich grumbled. He tried to shake Theodor's arm off in a half-hearted attempt to gain more space. There was a part of him, however, who craved a little physical support.

"But you wish this someone would get a bit more under your skin," Theodor guessed.

"Too late for that." Roderich snorted. "Already got under my skin alright, and it's so _frustrating."_ He heard how the little lilt in his tone had become stronger. _Time to stop drinking, my friend,_ he thought to himself. Theo was regarding him with curiosity, waiting for Roderich to tell him more. Roderich hated how willing he had become to spill his secret. A little drowsiness sufficed and he was readily giving away information he managed to stash away safely in his mind for the rest of the time. _And this is why I take care never to get drunk,_ he mused.

"So what's your problem?" Theo asked. "You look good and you're smart. Shouldn't be that difficult to get you laid, should it?"

"But we never even manage to have a meaningful conversation!" Roderich whined. _Oh dear, shut up, shut up! You're going to tell him_ everything.

"Then get laid first and talk it over second." Theo shrugged. "Still don't see where your problem is."

"Of course not." Roderich sighed and got up. "I think I'd rather go home now."

"Oh, _Rodi!"_ Theodor wailed. "It just started to get interesting!"

 _That's precisely why I'd rather go now,_ Roderich thought. But he said nothing.

* * *

Oh his way back to the palace grounds, Roderich felt the effects of too much wine wear down on him. Ironically, he rarely ever got drunk but wine made him easily tired. It was the kind of tiredness you might feel while making yourself comfortable before getting to sleep in your own bed. He was fairly sure this was also the reason why it tended to loosen his tongue.

Normally, Roderich wouldn't even have considered resting outdoors without a blanket to sit on, but his tiredness made taking a short nap under the moonlight seem very appealing. He made himself comfortable under an old oak tree within sight of the palace gates, resting his back against its bark.

Robbers? Wild animals? Roderich was usually overly careful when it came to potential dangers, might they be ever so small. This time, however, he only saw an opportunity to rest at a place that would keep him fairly safe because its large canopy would hide his form in the darkness.

 _You can't see the stars from under this tree,_ he thought drowsily. Dozing, he imagined Gilbert taking him by the hand, guiding him to a spot nearby where you could actually see them. He would point constellations out as he had done the day Roderich had realised the actual Gilbert was no obnoxious show-off. He was passionate about things that interested him; he was able to be serious and responsible; he was … _Actually quite sweet,_ thought Roderich and fell asleep.

* * *

" _Shhh!_ Don't be so loud!"

Roderich stirred. There was noise. Footsteps. A horse was snorting.

He opened his eyes. There were two men carrying what looked like a wool bag. Then one of them tripped and lost his grip on the item he was carrying. He caught himself but part of his load slipped loose.

A leg. Barefoot. Suddenly Roderich was wide awake.

 _Are they … abducting someone?_

"You fool!" someone hissed. "The girl is dazed but not dead! Keep it that way!"

 _Girl?_ No, that couldn't be. This couldn't be…

 _And what if it is?_

"What are you doing here? State your name and your concerns!"

Roderich hardly recognised his own voice. He hadn't been thinking this through; otherwise he wouldn't confront these two individuals. In the end, he was rather cowardly. But…

"Who are you, eh?" The man who hadn't tripped took one step closer. Now Roderich was able to recognise the person he was holding by the shoulders.

"Erika," he whispered. Basch's sister. So it really was her.

"So you know her, eh?" The other man seemed thoroughly unimpressed.

"Your bad," a third voice said, and his world went black.

* * *

The first thing he registered through his daze was that someone—something?—was shaking him. Movement. _A carriage?_ Then his memories were crashing in on him and so was a dull pain at the back of his head. He groaned.

"Oh, thank God, you're coming back!" Roderich blinked. That was Gilbert's voice. But what was he doing here—and for how long had Roderich been unconscious?

"What happened?" he asked just to be sure. He hated how weak his voice sounded.

"There was a third guy who hit you over the head with a club. You dropped like a sack of spuds. Then they tied you up and threw you into this cart. Took a lot more care handling the girl, I must say. Guess they just didn't want blood or a dead body on the road." Roderich registered how softly Gilbert was speaking, perhaps in case he had a headache. The more the black dots in his field of vision subsided, the more conscious of his surroundings he became. His head was resting in Gilbert's lap, turned to the side and held in place by warm, dry hands.

 _How nice this could be under different circumstances,_ he thought. But as it was, there were no butterflies in his stomach, just a vague feeling of nausea that became stronger the more his consciousness came back.

"I think I'm going to vomit soon." _Wonderful. Those are the words you want to tell your crush,_ he thought sarcastically.

"That's okay." Gilbert pushed his hair back, wiping away cold sweat on Roderich's front with a handkerchief. "I thought you might." Roderich would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't felt so weak. Seemed like he needed to be a little more explicit.

"By that I mean: Can you please help me up and drag me someplace so I don't throw up inside the cart? Heaven knows for how long we need to stay in here, and I don't think the smell of my vomit will be such a pleasant companion on our journey."

"I don't know if it's such a good idea for me to move y—" He fell silent. Roderich was already dragging himself into a sitting position which did nothing to calm the sickness in his stomach. Gilbert sighed, pushing back the tarpaulin at the rear end of the cart, allowing moonlight to flicker inside.

"Hold me, please, so I don't fall off," he told Gilbert before leaning over the edge of the carriage. Two strong arms wrapped around his chest. Once more, Roderich lamented the circumstances. This could have been so nice if he didn't feel so sick.

"I'm amazed at your determination to preserve your self-image," he heard Gilbert's voice in his ear.

"Honestly," Roderich said weakly when he was able to speak again. "If I could be as determined about that as I wanted, I wouldn't be sick in front of other people."

"Don't worry about it." Gilbert produced a flask and a little wooden mug. "It's just water mixed with beer, but you can rinse your mouth with it."

"Thank you." Roderich was touched. How did he never notice Gilbert was such an angel? He knew his feelings were exaggerated, probably, but he was grateful for the basic medical care Gilbert granted him.

"How is Erika?" he asked as soon as his nausea had subsided enough to allow him to think about other people.

"Still unconscious," Gilbert replied. "Think they drugged her with something that made her fall asleep." Roderich nodded. He didn't think this was the time to enlighten Gilbert Beilschmidt that being asleep and being unconscious were two different things.

"And how did you come here in the first place?" Roderich hadn't thought about this before. Truth be told, he hadn't questioned much, gaining consciousness in Gilbert's lap.

"Saw you two get hauled into the cart and needed to check on you." Gilbert shrugged. "I just jumped into it when it went past me."

"Do you think we could get off of it in the same way?"

"In your state of health?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Only if you want to break your neck. And not with _her_ while she is still unconscious." He gestured at Erika with his chin.

"Then I suppose the next step would be to help her gain consciousness," Roderich replied and crawled towards the wool bag that still held Erika. He searched his pockets for aromatic salt, a necessity of which he should have thought earlier but didn't, ironically because he had felt too sick. He held it under Erika's nose and waited.

"Do you really think that works?" Gilbert sounded doubtful.

"Do you have a better idea?" Roderich raised an eyebrow.

"I have, actually," Gilbert's voice said next to his ear again, and he was handed another jar.

"Is that a snuff box, Gilbert?" Roderich's eyebrow wandered higher.

"Just try it." Roderich sighed, but he did as he was told and held the snuff under Erika's nose.

At first there was a short intake of breath. Then several. And then Erika sneezed. Her green eyes opened and started to blink in confusion.

"Woken up by one's own sneezing," Roderich said, only half sarcastically. "You're a genius, Gilbert."

"I know," Gilbert said smugly. Roderich didn't know whether he should slap him or hug him. In the end, he did neither.

"How are you?" he asked Erika.

"I ... don't know?" She still seemed dazed. "Where am I? What has happened?"

"You're in a cart," he explained. "You were abducted."

"We're your rescue team." That was Gilbert, of course.

"Oh?" She sat up. Roderich was worried she would get sick just like him, but she didn't show any signs of nausea.

"Do you remember what happened?" Roderich asked. "How did you get abducted?"

"I don't know," she replied again. "I just sat down to drink my evening tea ... and then I don't remember anything anymore."

"Maybe the tea was poisoned," Gilbert suggested.

"I suggest we use the term 'drugged'", Roderich said. _Let's be glad she wasn't_ actually _poisoned_ _with a lethal drug,_ he thought. That would have been horrible. Basch would have been devastated.

"Yeah, whatever." Gilbert dismissed Roderich's words with a careless gesture. Roderich was reminded why he deemed him insufferable most of the time. "We need to get the two of you out of this carriage without breaking your bones."

"That would be favourable," Roderich agreed. Gilbert started to creep around in the carriage, half feeling and half seeing the objects in it in the moonlight.

"Here are some wooden boards," he said after a while. "We could try to make a slide with them. It's a bit risky, but it's our best chance as I see it."

"Do you think you can do it?" Roderich was watching Erika closely.

"I will." There was determination in her voice. "I must protect my brother. That's why I cannot allow anyone to abduct me." Roderich gave an appreciatory nod. That was Basch's sister.

"Very well," said Gilbert. "I'm gonna hold a board out of the carriage and you two are gonna roll off of it one after the other. Can you do that?" Erika nodded firmly. Roderich did the same. He wasn't so sure he could actually do this without breaking his bones, but he didn't see any other option either. What was more, his pride wouldn't allow him to show weakness while Erika was so brave.

Gilbert lifted the board and held it so it formed a makeshift ramp. He gestured at Roderich to go first, but Erika lifted a hand.

"No," she said. "I'll go first. I can't risk us getting noticed before I'm able to escape." Her tone did not allow any objections, so Gilbert yielded.

Roderich did his best not to show any signs of worry on his face while the girl climbed onto the board, dress flapping gently in the moving cart's airstream. She lowered herself bit by bit, waiting until her feet scrapped on the ground before she protected her face with her arms and rolled off onto the ground.

Gilbert's breath was ragged. Holding the board was almost more than his strength could muster, even with a light person such as Erika on it.

"You need to get off faster than her", he told Roderich. "I can't hold the board for much longer before I let it scrap on the ground, and that's when they will hear us for sure." Roderich nodded. He climbed to the edge of the carriage, tumbling down from the plank with an abrupt forward roll.

Hitting the ground hurt. It left him in a daze—that was until his nausea returned with the abruptness and force of a wave crashing against a rock. He barely managed to get on his knees, throwing up with an already empty stomach. The feeling of acidic bile made his throat sore and black dots were dancing in his field of vision again.

"Rodi..." Erika's worried voice; a concerned hand at his shoulder blade. He rolled to the side, feeling weak and sick and, most of all, humiliated. It was bad enough he had vomited in Gilbert's presence. Doing the same in Erika's was ten times worse.

"Hey." That was Gilbert's voice. It was surprisingly soft. "Can you get up? I just jumped out of the carriage and let myself drop, but I'm not sure they didn't hear me. We need to get off this road as fast as possible."

"Of course." Roderich barely recognised his own voice. His field of vision was turning when he pushed himself to his knees. _You have to,_ he told himself, gritting his teeth and dragging himself up to his feet with sheer willpower. That was when his field of vision went black.

When he came to himself, he found his head upside down against Gilbert's back. The soldier had thrown Roderich over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Roderich felt the bones of Gilbert's shoulder against his stomach. For a moment he was worried he would be nauseous once again, but for the time being, Roderich's stomach didn't revolt.

"But what _is_ with him?" he heard Erika's concerned voice.

"Don't worry," Gilbert said tersely. "Those ass—sorry, criminals hit him over the head. That sometimes makes people get sick for a while afterwards, but it usually gets better after they rest for a day or so."

"I think I can walk again," Roderich told Gilbert. His voice slurred as if he was drunk.

"No, you can't." Gilbert's tone brooked no dissent.

"But you carrying me makes us so much slower..."

"Not as slow as if you'd throw up and faint again."

Roderich accepted defeat. He busied himself with gloomy thoughts while Gilbert was carrying him to safety.

 _Now he will think I'm disgusting,_ he thought. _I might as well abandon hope._ Worst of all was that he had only now realised what a sweet and caring person Gilbert could be.

* * *

They walked until daybreak. That was when they met a farmer heading to the market with a handcart. He agreed to take Erika and Roderich with him if Gilbert helped him pull the cart. That was how they returned to the castle grounds.

When they had arrived, Roderich managed to walk to his chamber on his own, leaving it to Gilbert and Erika to explain what had happened. Basch later sent the court physician to him who strictly commanded him to rest.

The following one and a half days passed in a blur. The next time someone other than the physician and his brother knocked at Roderich's door was when the chamberlain commanded him to come to the throne room in order to identify the criminals who had abducted Erika. Roderich had only seen them at night, but his special abilities would allow him to ascertain if Basch's soldiers had found the actual culprits.

* * *

He was too pale when he arrived in the throne room, but he was feeling considerably better than twenty-four hours earlier. Erika, sitting next to her brother, regarded him with a worried expression at first, but her facial features relaxed once she realised he was able to stride into the room with the effortless elegance she was wont to see.

Basch didn't speak much. He simply gestured to three bound men kneeling in front of his throne. Three soldiers held a bayonet against their necks, with Gilbert Beilschmidt standing close by as their commander. At Gilbert's command, the soldier to the left wrenched his prisoner into a standing position.

Roderich stepped closer, placing his hands at the prisoner's temple. In his mind's eye, he saw images of people inside an inn, toying with hypothetic ideas of gaining riches.

 _What if we abduct someone important?_ one of them said, and Roderich could _watch_ a plan unravel in the mind's eye of the person in front of him...

"He is their leader," he told Basch. "He schemed to abduct Erika and wanted to blackmail you." Then he stepped to the person in the middle. The man was pulled up as well while the one whose thoughts he had read at first was pushed back into a kneeling position.

The thoughts of violence Roderich received were appalling. They didn't only involve a strong desire to club and kill _him,_ but also thoughts about Erika Roderich would rather have kept to himself.

"Be careful," Roderich said. "He is a violent person. Don't let him near women and children."

"So he was involved in the kidnapping?" Basch inquired.

"He was the one who hit me over the head," Roderich said, giving the man a hostile glance. Then he moved to the third person. Reading his thoughts, what he found was admiration for the first abductor as well as shame for his inability to carry Erika as safely as the other man had ordered.

"This one is just a follower," Roderich explained to Basch. "He never meant to harm your sister. I'd suggest treating him more leniently than the others."

"Thank you for your insights," Basch said. Addressing the soldiers, he added: "Take them back to the dungeon. I'm going to decide later what their respective punishments will be."

The soldiers guided their prisoners out of the throne room, Gilbert following in their wake.

"Oh, Beilschmidt," Basch halted him,. When he was the only soldier left, the king added: "There is a thing I need to find out about you as well. I mean your motive to come to my sister's help. Roderich..." He gestured at his friend, indicating he should read the commander's thoughts as well.

Roderich was a little nervous when he stepped up to Gilbert. They had rarely been as physically close as when he put his fingers to the sides of Gilbert's head.

The first mental image that entered his mind was the thought of them kissing. He blinked. No, these were, in fact, Gilbert's thoughts, not his own.

Pushing past the foremost layer of his thoughts, Roderich saw the cart and the criminals; saw himself get struck and go down. He could feel Gilbert's emotional turmoil; traced his rash decision to get into the cart as it drove past the stone wall that had hid him from view.

Roderich's hands slid from Gilbert's temples. Gilbert looked to the side, avoiding to look at him directly. Roderich wanted to tell him how touched he was, but Gilbert turned away from him, leaving the throne room hastily.

"Hey!" Basch yelled. "I didn't give you permission to retire!"

"Just leave it be," Roderich said softly. "And excuse me for following him now." He rushed behind Gilbert.

"Hey!" Basch yelled again. "Tell me what you found out!" Roderich ignored him. The last thing he heard before the doors closed behind him was Erika's voice.

"Do you really not understand, brother?"

* * *

"Gilbert! Wait!" Roderich was rushing after him.

"And why should I do that?" Gilbert didn't slow down. "You don't like me anyway!"

"That's not true!"

Gilbert stopped abruptly. He turned to Roderich.

"Like Hell it is true."

"No." Roderich caught up to him, feeling a little breathless. "What I don't like is the way you act in front of others. That ... bragging. _That_ is annoying."

"See?" Gilbert wanted to turn and walk away, but Roderich caught his arm.

"But there's a different Gilbert. The Gilbert who taught me about constellations. And the Gilbert who took care of me while I was ill." The soldier was still looking away, not daring to look into Roderich's eyes.

"I really like that Gilbert," Roderich went on softly. "I just wish I'd see him more often." He cupped the soldier's face in his hands, ignoring the confused thoughts that were, once again, storming in on him.

"That's because I'm in love with him." Roderich leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on Gilbert's lips.

In Gilbert's mind, he saw the two of them kissing roughly, grinding against each other and tearing on each other's clothes. The discrepancy between these images and the shy kiss he received in return was so strong it made Roderich giggle.

"What is it?" Gilbert's tone was still defiant.

"I can read your thoughts, remember?" Roderich grinned.

"Well." Gilbert brushed over his hair in a nervous gesture. "Before we get to that, we should maybe ... talk ... I guess?"

"Yes. Yes, we should." Roderich smiled. "You're a good person, Gilbert Beilschmidt. I guess I should also thank you for not finding me disgusting after ... well, you know."

"Oh, don't worry about it." Gilbert returned Roderich's smile. "I'm used to taking care of injuries like that. It's just ... a thing that happens, especially with young recruits falling off their warhorses during training."

"Thanks regardless," Roderich said sincerely. "I thought you'd think I was disgusting now."

"You're an idiot," Gilbert said with a tiny smile. "I could never think you were disgusting."

"I guess the both of us are idiots then." Roderich grinned. "But let's continue our talk someplace where we're less likely to be overheard."

"Sounds like a good idea," Gilbert agreed. "Perhaps at the observatory?"

Roderich nodded, and they walked off in silence.


End file.
